I Don't Care
by MegaNerdAlert
Summary: At Hogwarts, Minerva and Hermione were secretly involved, promising to marry when the war was over. When Voldemort decided he wanted McGonagall out of the way, plans changed and life went on. Twenty years later...
1. Chapter 1

**Here's something new... a wee bit angsty. My goal with this is to make it as close to cannon as possible. It starts where the Epilogue left off. **

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><p>Snape had been ordered to kill her a few months after he'd done in Dumbledore. He'd put her in a coma; an unforgivable offense in most people's minds, but it did give her a fighting chance, they'd realized after the brooding Headmaster's death that following May. A fighting chance was all she'd needed; it was all Minerva McGonagall had ever needed. Nineteen long years after the war ended, brilliant emerald eyes blinked open in her private room at St. Mungo's Hospital.<p>

A nearly thirty-eight year old Hermione Weasley had been contacted at once, having only just dropped her daughter, Rose, off at King's Cross, destined for her first year at Hogwarts. When the patronus from her contact at St. Mungo's had appeared, very quickly and excitedly saying that _she_ was awake. Hermione had hardly believed it, but didn't hesitate in sending her son, Hugo, off home with his father, Ron. As soon as she'd cleared the crowd of muggles, Hermione apparated directly to the wizarding hospital.

Ron didn't know why Hermione had, every day after work for the last nineteen years, gone to see their comatosed former Professor. He'd asked dozens of times over the years, and each time had resulted in a massive argument in which she very firmly stated that if he didn't like her visiting Minerva, he could bugger off and file for a divorce. That had shut him up pretty quickly.

The truth, as only a couple of the St. Mungo's nurses had realized over the years, was that Hermioine was in love with the older witch. She never told the nurses anything about it, but each day she visited, and each visit, she kissed a sleeping Minerva goodbye, whispering endeerments meant only for a romantic partner. A few of the nurses suspected that they'd actually been involved in a torid affair prior to Minerva being put in a coma by Snape. Those particular few had been right.

"Hermione!" Evelyn, one of the regular nurses, called as the brown eyed witch rushed toward the long-term-care ward.

"Eve!" Hermione replied. "Is it true? Is she…?"

"She's awake, hun," Evelyn confirmed. "Very grumpy, but awake."

"What's got her wand in a knot?" Hermione asked as they walked toward Minerva's room.

"Well, her lack of wand, for starters," the nurse replied. "That and that her hair has been cut off."

"Oh," Hermione winced, remembering how she had agreed with the nurses a year after Minerva had fallen into a coma that the woman's long hair was just not something they could realistically maintain on top of her other care. "Surely she understands our reasoning…"

"We haven't told her how long it's been," Evelyn said warily. "Though she'd take it best from you."

By then, the pair had come to the door of Minerva's room. Hermione took a deep breath, knowing how her world was about to be turned upside down, right along with her long ago lover's. How could she tell Minerva, after they'd promised each other that they'd marry as soon as the war was over, that she herself had married another, and had two children with him? More than that, how the bloody hell was she going to explain any of this to Ron? "How is she, mentally?"

"Sharp as always," Evelyn said quietly. "You're in love with her, aren't you?"

Hermione bowed her head. It was the question none of them had dared ask her, though she'd known they wondered. "Oh yes," she replied, fingering a promise ring Minerva had given to her over twenty years ago. "We were engaged, before…"

Evelyn pulled her into a tight hug. "I'll be in my office if you need me," she assured the woman she considered to be a friend. "Good luck."

Evelyn walked away without another word. Hermione's shaking hand reached out and turned the door knob, entering a very familiar room and meeting the startling green eyes she'd not seen in over two decades. "Min…" she whispered.

"Hermione…" the Scottish voice that had filled her dreams all these years replied. "Oh, my love…"

The brown eye witch bolted from the doorway to Minerva's bedside in a matter of seconds, pulling the woman she loved into a passionate kiss, which for the first time in years, was returned. "I've missed you...so...bloody...much…" Hermione cried between kisses.

Minerva's arms weakly pulled her closer. Hermione climbed onto the bed, and curled up next to the older witch. They just held each other for awhile before Minerva finally asked the dreaded question. "Hermione...how long has it been?"

Hermione pulled back and looked intently at her former Professor. "A long time," she whispered.

"Months?"

Hermione shook her head slowly. "Years, Minerva. Just over twenty years."

"Twenty...years?" Minerva gasped. "Twenty? YEARS?"

"I'm sorry, love."

Minerva squeezed Hermione's hand, smiling slightly when she looked down at saw the younger witch was still wearing the ring she'd given her all those years ago. The smile vanished when she realized that it had been moved to Hermione's right hand, and a quick glance to Hermione left had revealed another ring adorning that finger. "You married?"

Hermione pulled away slightly, frowning. "Yes."

"Who?"

"Ron?" she whispered. "We have two children."

"I see," Minerva frowned. "If that's the case, Hermione, why are you here? If you've obviously moved on…"

"Min…"

"You should go," the older witch choked out. "Go. To your family."

"But I want…"

"It's been twenty years, Hermione," Minerva said stiffly. "We probably don't have a thing in common anymore."

"What are you saying, babe?" Hermione asked, tears starting to fall.

"You have to let me go," the older witch replied. "Leave now, and don't look back. I don't want to see you again."

Hermione bit her lip, and slowly removed herself from the bed. "Please...Min…"

"GET. OUT!" Minerva shouted, making herself perfectly clear. "Have a nice life, Mrs. _Weasley_."

Brown eyes wet with tears, Hermione turned and fled.

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	2. Chapter 2

**And...the angst continues. No idea whatsoever where this fic is going. Just...it's going. Hope you enjoy!**

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><p>Never once in Minerva McGonagall's long life had she used her money to get what she wanted. There was a first for everything, she'd realized, as she'd offered a ten thousand galleon bribe to the St. Mungo's administrator to send her home the day after she'd woken up. It had to be done, she mused, as she dropped the portkey that had just deposited her in her Manor foyer. Above all else she could not stand the thought of her once lover, Hermione Granger...rather Weasley now, summoning the courage to come to her again at the hospital. Minerva simply could not face the pain.<p>

When she'd woken up, she'd been asked what the last thing she remembered was. Her answer then had been that she recalled a duel with Severus Snape just outside of Hogsmeade, which she had most definitely been losing. When Hermione arrived an hour later, she'd learned that it had not been days, nor weeks, or even months...it had been two bloody decades since that fateful afternoon. Snape had not killed her, but he had still stolen her life; she'd never forgive him for that, no matter how much longer she lived.

In the day that had passed since waking up, she'd started to remember bits and pieces of the last twenty years. She'd always heard that people in comas can hear what's happening around them. Most of what she remembered was a daily kiss from Hermione, along with a whispered _I love you_. She also remembered a bit of the day before Hermione had married Ron. The younger witch had cried at her bedside for hours. She recalled Hermione telling her about a daughter, Rose, and a son, Hugo. She couldn't say how old the two children were, though she imagined that Hermione must have married Ron right after the war ended, which meant her children were graduated, or close to graduating from Hogwarts.

The reflection in Minerva's washroom mirror had hardly hinted of the passage of time. Her hair was a bit grayer, but not too much. The grey concerned her less than the lack of length; a nurse named Evelyn had tried to explain that her long hair was not something they could have maintained over the last twenty years, but she'd heard none of that. It was petty, Minerva supposed, but she rather thought she'd earned the right to a wee bit of petty after being unconscious for twenty years.

On the upside, she could not find a single new worry line on her face; it seemed that one really did not worry much at all while in a coma. She could probably dig around and find a charm to regain the length and color of her hair if she wanted to, but she doubted she would be that inspired. After all, what was the point of looking pretty when the one witch in the world she'd ever wanted to look pretty for had wed another?

The bribe to the St. Mungo's administrator had included that he not speak to anyone of her re-entry into the world at large. She didn't know who among her friends had survived both the end of the war, as well as the years since, but she didn't fancy seeing any of them one way or another. Here, now, she was alone in her Manor, with a house elf to help her, and a weekly visit from Evelyn to keep up on her recovery. Mostly that would involve some therapy on her decidedly unused muscles. If they dared suggest her a councilor, she would hex them into oblivion. That is...when they gave her bloody wand back.

Minerva had always been known as the sort of woman who faced the facts head on. A realist, she'd been called. Hermione had brought about a change in her, back in her sixth year at Hogwarts. The young woman must have been off her rocker when she declared her affections for her then-Professor, but it had, for a time, made Minerva into the type of woman who looked past what was probable, and towards what was possible. She couldn't help herself; she smiled at the memory.

"_Professor McGonagall?" Hermione had asked. "Might I have a bit of your time?"_

_Minerva had looked at the clock, taking note of how late in the evening it was. Her first instinct had been to send the newly returned sixth year back to her dorms, but Hermione wasn't just any student; not that she'd ever admit to such. "Of course, Miss Granger, do come in."_

_Hermione had grinned, entering the older witch's quarters shyly. "Thanks."_

"_What can I do for you?" Minerva had asked as the two took a seat on one of the sofas in her den. _

"_Before I explain why I'm here, I need your word that what I say will stay between us," Hermione began quietly. "No matter how you feel about what I'm about to say."_

_Minerva had nodded. "Of course, I shall respect your privacy Miss Granger. As I do with all my students."_

"_Your word, Minerva," Hermione had insisted._

_The use of her first name by the young Gryffindor at startled her, and concerned her greatly. She wondered what sort of trouble her best student might have found herself in, to come to speak to her about what she guessed was a highly personal thing. "You have it...Hermione," she'd assured gently. _

"_I'm in love with you," Hermione had blurted out without further ado._

_Whatever Minerva had been expecting, that had not been it. A gasp of surprise had been all that had managed to escape her mouth before her student had quickly leaned forward and pressed a firm kiss on the elder's lips._

"_Miss -" she tried to object, but the opening of her mouth only allowed Hermione an opportunity to push her tongue forward, running it over teeth that did not belong to her._

It was then that something inside Minerva had clicked, and she suddenly found herself returning the kiss, and then pulling her - thank Merlin for small mercies - recently of age student closer. No words had been said as they'd engaged in a good long snog for the next half hour. The conversation to determine exactly what was happening between them happened directly after that, and six months later, Minerva had asked Hermione to marry her.

Now, that memory was more than two decades old, and as happy as she'd been then, she discovered that she was bitter in equal measure now. She wasn't angry at Hermione, per say. Twenty years was a long time, and she couldn't really have expected her young fiance to wait so long. Their engagement had been what had allowed Herminoe to oversee Minerva's care all these years, but now that she was awake, it was time for Mrs. Ronald Weasley to give her whole attention to the life and family that she'd built.

As for Minerva, most everyone considered her to be more or less dead, so at least for a while, she'd take it easy and catch up on the times. After that, well...she supposed she'd contact the current Head of Hogwarts and see about reclaiming her Transfiguration post, even if it was only part time. She couldn't imagine doing anything else with the rest of her life; her life without Hermione.

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